Stephen knelt at her feet, his arms snug around Teyla's waist,the enticing heat of her bare skin against his own the beginning of the bliss that would be theirs to share and explore in the nights and days ahead. Now that they had surmounted all the obstacles that had stood between them, he was surprised that he needn't strive for patience on the way to their fulfillment—for his heart became his guide, overruling his baser desires for the sake of the gentle woman in his arms. Passion, hunger, unabashed lust, would all play out in their own good time upon this simple bed, inside this plain room, quietly contained within this abandoned little cabin, in the shade of the mountain's timeless majesty and the shelter of the fruitful blossoms and green leaves of the trees, which Stephen had brought to life to please her. But first he would love her slowly, softly, and ever mindful of the privilege of being the first man to know her intimately; he would be her teacher once more, as well as the lover who revealed to her the wonders of the flesh.
Teyla was nuzzling his neck, breathing her warmth and willingness upon him, while brushing her parted lips against his skin. Stephen threaded the fingers of one hand in her hair, gradually urging her head back a bit so that he could look into her eyes. She sighed and gave him a little smile, pure in her unwavering trust. He tucked two fingers beneath her chin, to bring her mouth to his, savoring her with quiet, gentle kisses to begin with, then prompting her lips open with the tip of his tongue. Still he was gentle, as he explored her mouth, teasing her tongue with his, loving how she ceded herself to his lead, while relishing the little sounds she made, and the soothing way she ran her hands through his hair. Finally breaking to gasp for air, Stephen leaned his forehead on hers, "I love you, Teyla…and with every kiss, and even your lightest touches, you make me love you more…"
She nodded against him, humming in agreement, "My heart was thine before we shared a single kiss, beloved." Her voice was husky with the depth of her emotions as she added, "I live in these hours for your touch…for the promise of our bodies united at last." She laid a palm over his heart, "As you say you love me, Stephen, then love me true. Please…please love me now."
Her plaintive plea moved him from his knees, to stand only so long as it took him to slide off his loafers and shuck off his jeans. Teyla watched him aptly, her mouth dropping open a bit at this first sight of him in just his boxer-briefs, her eyes registering the hard bulge concealed there, before she looked up at him. By some instinct mixed with curiosity, she reached out to touch him, though he stopped her hand before she made contact; he wanted to take his time, and in her gentle artlessness she might set him aflame without meaning to. Instead, he sat beside her on the bed, and rested her trembling hand against his cheek.
Teyla studied his face a moment, and drew a hitching breath. "You must bear with me, Stephen," she bid him haltingly, "Please…for except with those I have needed to examine as a Healer…and…and those few Earth boys who briefly sought to court me…I…I have never really touched a man…" Stephen stroked his thumb against the back of her hand, trying to quell her hesitation. "And I have never, ever…in…in the way I am needing to touch you now…"
Her honestly and vulnerability had him beguiled, and in reply he folded her hand in his, moving in to kiss her brow, seeking to allay her misgivings, to show her that she was more than enough for him. Teyla had closed her eyes as his lips hovered near, and he took her face in his hands for a deep, tender kiss, hoping to reassure her; he let the kiss dissolve, and she remained still a moment, eyes shut, her face soft from his silent, loving answer to her concern. "Teyla, sweetheart—you just need to trust your instincts." His voice was low, and rich with his perpetual wonder that she had chosen him. "However you touch me, I know it will be heavenly, because it will come from your heart."
Her confidence thus bolstered, Teyla's expression lightened with relief, and soon enough she was kissing him; his mouth, his cheeks, and casting the softest kisses upon his throat, while running her hands along his shoulders and upper arms, sparking his flesh with the quiet magic that lived in her fingertips. Stephen buried his hands in her hair, absorbed in the gentle thrill of her lips pampering his flesh—until the urge to lay her back upon the bed was irresistible.
Propped up on his elbow, Stephen leaned over her, closely considered her dear features; the forthright invitation in her soft, dark eyes; the smooth, flushed curve of her cheeks; her rosy lips, plumped from delivering him such tender kisses. He couldn't help but smile, remembering how plain and forsook she had seemed to him upon their first acquaintance—and how her every detail had become a cause of joy to him now. Now that her inner light shone unabated, now that his eyes beheld her astonishing truth. Teyla smiled once again, surely catching the train of his thoughts, and breathed a deep sigh.
Stephen began skimming his fingertips upon her cheek, and then along the line of her jaw; she closed her eyes again, sinking into the sensation. He teased his way along her neck, and then down the center of her chest, watching as her breathing deepened, as her mouth fell open with a soft moan. Her nipples were already drawn tight, ruddy with arousal; she gasped at the instant of his touch, gasped and panted as he played with her, arching up to meet his fingers. All her being seemed focused on his touch, and when he took her ripe flesh fully in his hand, Teyla lolled her head to the side, moaning from the back of her throat.
Touching her so, Stephen pondered not only the softness of her virgin skin, nor only how rapt she appeared to be in his caresses, but also the fact that the renewed sensitivity of his fingers, and the absence of pain in his hands, were gifts of Teyla's empathetic magic. How fitting it was that he could use his ruined hands to bring her such pleasure now!
Her breathing remained slow and deep under his loving ministrations—and though his mouth watered for a taste of her, and to explore her inch by inch with his lips and tongue, Stephen still refrained—knowing that once his restraint was breached, his needs might have him play too rough with her. Teyla looked back to him, dazed prettily and smiling softly, so that he couldn't resist tracing her sweet lips with his thumb. She encouraged him on by parting her lips just a little, making him shiver when she touched the tip of her tongue to his scarred skin, a heady invitation to which he just had to succumb. Stephen slid his thumb into her mouth, stroking the surface of her tongue, while she closed her lips around it. "Oh gawwwwwwd," he whispered, delighting in her moan, and in the sudden undulation of her hips in time with his strokes. He kissed her brow, nearly growling, "Baby, you can't imagine the things you're making me feel right now…"
She gave a low moan, trailing her fingers down the center of his chest; down, down, down to his waistband, then pressed her palm against his erection. He nearly shot out of his skin, as much from her surprising boldness, as from the delicious feel of it. He forced himself to slide his thumb from her mouth, wanting to—needing to—focus on Teyla alone, on teaching her patiently to read her own body's cues, and on taking her as gradually and as gently as she so deserved.
"Let me please you, Stephen," she implored him, flexing her palm against him, likely—in her naiveté-unaware of the flush of heat which her simple movement sent through his groin, "Show me what I may do, my love…"
He groaned, aching with the need she aroused, and then closed his eyes to concentrate on what he longed to do for her. He kissed her brow again, and then between her eyes before answering, "In a little while, honey; we have hours and hours ahead for that…but first, I want to touch you. As gently as I can…"
"As in my dreams…" she replied breathlessly, mesmerized by his manner with her.
"Yes, baby…as you dreamed…" Stephen felt breathless himself, with both desire and wonder. "And we're gonna take our time." She whimpered softly, surrendering herself to his will. "You trust me, Teyla, don't you?"
"With my life, Stephen," she affirmed without hesitation, "With all that I am. Always."
He paused a moment more—for her hand laid against him, even through his briefs, was pure heaven—before he removed it, laid a kiss upon her palm, and placed it against his neck. He kept his eyes on hers, reading her need and the honesty of her love, and her trust in him, in their sweet depths. Stephen started at the hollow of her throat with the barest contact, tracing her skin in a slow, sinuous pattern; across her collarbone, then along her breastbone, lingering to cup her breast briefly again, thrilling at her delicious gasp when he circled her stiffened nipple with the flat of his thumb. Teyla swallowed hard and nodded, flexing her fingers against his neck, while smiling sweetly up at him. Her absolute trust made him breathless again, and eager to give her…everything. Everything that he could. Everything that he was.
Stephen meandered his hand ever downward, his fingers as gentle with her as he'd promised, tracing each rib, the soft cup of her navel, the modest curve of her waist and onto her hip, and he suddenly needed to kiss her, needed to fill his mouth with her essence, needed her to know that his heart beat for her now, only for her. He groaned when she opened her mouth beneath his, eagerly suckling his plump bottom lip, dizzying him with intensified need to have her, to take her in full.
Panting, Stephen pulled out of the kiss, murmuring against her mouth, "…my sweet little angel…my beauty…my heart…"
"Your words are as the purest honey, my love," she murmured back, "I could live upon their sweetness forever, and know no hunger but to draw them ever from your lips." How at peace she looked, how calm and patient, gazing up at him fearlessly—while Stephen's blood pounded with the immediacy of his desires, every inch of his skin alive with the need for her soft flesh, every nerve set ablaze at even their smallest contact with her skin. If she read in him such fierce desperation, she showed no sign.
But then Teyla nodded in silent indulgence—as though granting him leave to take her however he willed—while threading her fingers through the hair above his brow, then lightly tracing the cup of his ear, and ended by laying her hand on his chest, over his heart—making him feel as though it now kept it's beat at her bidding alone.
She spread her fingers wide, closing her eyes and breathing in time with him as she caressed his chest, gasping in soft surprise when she felt one of his stiffened nipples, touching it tentatively at first, and then rubbing it firmly. Feeling his moans rumble from the center of his chest, she gained a new sense of the power of her touch. "Yes, baby," he declared, "If it feels that good to you, it's gonna feel even better to me…"
Emboldened by his affirmation, Teyla's eagerness to please him found swift expression; she stretched her neck enough to lay a path of moist, insistent kisses upon his throat and all along his collarbone, and soon eased herself into a position to kiss her way across his chest, only stopping to linger deliciously on his pecs; the warmth of her breath, the softness of her lips, the play of her tongue upon him patient and thorough. Teyla grew bolder, surprising him, pleasing him, taking his nipple into her mouth while languorously coasting a hand to his hip, pulling him against her, and then whimpering at the feel of his hard cock caught between them, against her thigh.
Stephen lingered above her, his sharp desire to slowly, purposefully treasure her tender flesh in conflict with his mounting lust to have her, have her at once. Itching to touch her, explore her, know her, he massaged one breast to her delight, finally lowering his mouth to softly brush his parted lips upon the other, the warmth of his breath wetting her skin before he circled her areola with the tip of his tongue. Teyla exhaled a long moan, and thrust herself up into his mouth, gasping when he slowly tasted the hard bud of her nipple, patiently teasing his tongue against it. He closed his lips around her, drawing her deeper into his mouth, gentle in knowing this was all new to her—while the feel of her against his tongue quickened the heat in his blood. She nested her hands in his hair, greedy for his play upon her—and shivered when he pulled his mouth away, as he breathed upon her dampened skin, and then kissed across her sternum, to lavish equal attention on her other breast.
He shifted his eyes as he suckled her, as she pressed herself against his questing tongue; shifted his eyes to her face, needing to see the pleasure painted there. In her bliss, Teyla had bared the tender expanse of her throat to him, unknowingly beckoning him to partake of her there.
She gave a little whimper when he left off, but accepted the moist kisses he scattered upon the lovely blush of her chest and throat, sliding her hands from his hair to cup his face as he hovered over her. "Beloved," she breathed, offering up her mouth. Stephen whet his lips, sealing them upon hers with a searing kiss, while leaving only a whisper of space between their torsos.
They dwelt in the kiss for uncounted heartbeats, and Teyla clung to him as if for life itself-eventually urging him completely atop her, her need to be flesh on flesh undeniable. Stephen groaned into her mouth, his own need heightened by the heated press of her curves beneath him.
He drifted one hand along her ribs to her waist, then into the cool cloth that covered her hip, not hesitating at all to tug the silken material down. Teyla shifted enough to allow him to slide them off her completely, moaning her sweetest when he splayed his fingers wide across her smooth thigh; she bent her knee, letting her leg fall to the side, giving him leave to nestle there, his cotton briefs all that was left between his erection and her heat.
She gasped hard when he ground himself between her thighs, writhing against him while sliding one hand between them, finally daring her fingertips past the waistband of his briefs. She moaned at her first contact with the course curls of his pubis, moaned harder as she finally touched the tip of his cock, moaned in unison with him as he jerked into her touch. Stephen allowed her to fondle him in exploration—all too briefly—the thrill of it pulsing along his shaft and into his testes as he struggled against growing too greedy, too soon. "That's…ahhhhhh…amazing, baby," he rasped, "But you gotta take it easy on me…please…or I'll go off like a rocket…"
"As you wish, my love," she purred, slowly withdrawing her hand, and sliding it to rest against his hip, still inside his briefs. She nuzzled his neck again with insistent kisses, murmuring against his skin, "But please, Stephen…please…I desire all of your flesh…as I know you desire mine."
"Yes…god yes," he exclaimed, moving off of her enough to pull off the last layer between them. Teyla watched, wide-eyed at her first, true sight of him, breathing heavily, reaching for him and unashamedly wrapping her hand around his shaft. He lost himself in the heaven of her grip, hanging his head beside hers, denying his need to thrust, panting against her ear, "Okay…okay, honey…now…now let go for a bit…and I need…I need to touch you…"
As ever, she complied with his instructions—his instruction quite desperate now—and she hummed her throaty reply as he settled his palm on the downy curls at the juncture of her thighs, and laid his fingers upon her exposed slit. Wanting so to please her, needing to be sure that she was ready for him, Stephen advised her lovingly, "I'm going to touch you now, honey, beyond how I've ever touched you before…and I swear I'll be as gentle as can be." Teyla was softly nodding, her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, so that he remembered once again her dreaming this exact moment between them. You speak tenderly, promising to be gentle, she had told him, and then, my beloved, you pierce me, and fill me—and we move as one. A thrill of certainty sparked in his chest, with that further confirmation that their destinies were meant to be entwined—and now it merely remained for him to fulfill his promises to her.
Teyla stretched beneath him—her softness a supple and heady temptation—and crooked one arm above her head, her expression languid, dreamy, trusting. She was breathing deeply, relaxed as though hypnotized by his intent. Stephen slowly traced the short path down to her wet threshold and slid just the tip of his middle finger inside her. She gave a quick gasp and blinked up at him, before encouraging him with a little nod. She was deliciously slick, and he probed her with ease—enough to discover that the thin membrane of her hymen was still intact, spurring him to even greater caution. He leaned down to kiss her tenderly before speaking.
"Teyla, baby," he breathed against her sweet mouth, his heart pounding in divine anticipation, "You're ready for me." His voice roughened at the thought of what came next, "So very, very ready." She hummed in agreement, lost in returning his kisses—though she whimpered when he withdrew his finger. "I know, honey…I know," he assured her, "We're almost there now, but…but you need to know it still might smart a bit when I…when we finally…" Stephen trailed off, unsure of how to express his concern, "…I don't want to hurt you, so we're gonna…gonna keep it slow and easy."
"Oh, Stephen," she sighed, brushing her tender lips against his, "I have placed myself in your strong, beautiful hands every moment on our way to this—you need not fret for my comfort." Her voice broke, tremulous with longing, "I can feel your love in each touch of your breath upon my skin; your goodness in every caress. Fill my body now, beloved, as you have filled my heart—to overflow with the joy of being utterly…yours."
With that catalyst, Stephen knew he needn't wait any longer; never taking his eyes off Teyla's face, he spread her thighs further apart, and took his place at last between them. Obligingly, she angled her hips to accommodate him, while bending her other knee and opening herself to him completely-and moaning delectably at the heated press of his stiff, full length between her moist folds. He leaned above her, his hips snugly pressed to her hers, while resting most of his weight on his hands; Teyla slid her arms beneath his, holding onto his back. She hissed softly as he finally broached her, as the enflamed head of his cock met, and then broke through the thin tissue of her maidenhead, while he restrained himself from going any deeper just yet. Biting her lip and nestling her head deeper into the pillow, she seemed to hold her breath a few moments, then released a moan of mixed pleasure and relief, her dark eyes widening as she accepted this new, remarkable sensation. He kept his eyes patiently fixed upon hers, attentive to even the smallest signs of what she was feeling, the muscles in his thighs bearing the strain of his patience.
Aware of his need from every point of contact between their bodies—and by virtue of her nature, surely reading his feelings as she so often did—Teyla whimpered softly again amid slow, shallow pants, her mouth dropping open as her eyes fluttered nearly shut. "Are you alright, baby?" His voice was low and rough with the effort to keep his lust at bay; all for his Teyla, only for her. "Is this good for you, honey?"
She answered with a small nod and a low moan, deep in her throat—enough to encourage him to push himself a bit further into her wet pussy; it was exquisite torment, lingering this way, his every urge to thrust into her fully vying with his determination to make this first time perfect for her. That small advance drew from her a longer moan, and a hint of a smile. "Yes," she affirmed breathily, "Oh, my love, yes…" Stephen lowered his face to take her lips in a tender kiss, and when Teyla rolled her pelvis in invitation beneath him, he filled her as fully as she had asked.
He grunted in relief with his first several thrusts, holding her gaze steadily, fascinated by the adoration in the soulful depths of her eyes, thrilling at each hard exhale she gave over each time he buried himself to the hilt in her welcoming heat. Stephen set their pace with deep, patient thrusts, finding Teyla to be a most apt student, as she learned his rhythm and discovered that her own movements could bring pleasure to them both. He would cherish forever the music of her crooning his name, as he seated himself fully inside her, as she encased him as gloriously as he had been imagining, and even more so. "Love you, baby," he growled against her ear, spending hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat, tasting the salt of her skin on his tongue.
At times he varied his strokes, discovering those which pleased her best from the intensity of her gasps and moans, and in how she squirmed beneath him, thrusting her pelvis upward seeking deeper penetration. Teyla drifted hungry hands to his hips, and then to his loins, holding on tight, greedy for every inch of him. "Yes," he rasped, his chest against hers slick with sweat, lost in the moment, lost in their combined heat, "Yes, I know what you want, baby…just…just wrap your legs around my waist," he prompted her, caressing her thigh as he helped her settle around him, and grunting against her shoulder at the divine sensation in the change of angle, and the way her muscles pulsed around his swollen, straining shaft. Stephen breathed hard, groaned harder, loosing himself in her eager persuasion. "Mmmmm…yeah…" he moaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck, "…oh christ, Teyla…that's…ahhhhh…mmmm…perrrfect…"
Her every sigh, her gasps and moans as he loved her, were the most perfect music he had ever heard—and seemed to be the music he had been waiting for, over countless years. He opened his eyes, needing to see her perfect beauty, to find Teyla's were tightly shut, her lashes wet and her lips atremble as she struggled—it seemed to him—against some strong emotion. Concern for her sake replaced all other thought, and he stilled himself completely. "What's wrong, honey? Have I…have I hurt you?" Stephen's heart thunked, and remorse filled his chest; he would never be able to forgive himself if she admitted the worst.
Teyla's eyes were soft, when they flickered open, moist with unshed tears, but full of the love that had become his sustenance. Her breath hitched once more, as her answer sprang gently from her lips. Wonder-filled, she told him quietly, "Not in the least, my love; not for a moment…" The tears she had tried to hold back spilled along the curve of her cheeks, wetting her pillow.
"But why are you crying, Teyla," he asked, confused and ready to give her whatever comfort she might need, "I don't understand…please, honey…please just tell me what to do…"
"Oh, Stephen," she sighed, laying a hand on his cheek, "Beloved, how could you know? I had never imagined it would be like this, so how could you?" He felt at a loss, breathless as he waited upon her answer, wondering how everything had felt so perfect as though ordained by heaven, how he had thought her body was urging him forward every moment, and now fearing that in reality he had somehow imposed upon her selfishly.
Her eyes widened at she understood his alarm, and she raised her face enough to kiss him warmly, and then spoke against his mouth, "My love, my life…you need not fear; for a moment, be still and let yourself feel what I am feeling. Know my bliss as your own; as yours has become mine."
Incredulous, he closed his eyes again, shooing all thought and concern from his mind. In their place, he felt his veins begin to flow with a sublime rapture that rose above their physical connection-and knew its source was Teyla's heart.
"Yes, my love," she whispered, "And what you feel from me now is only a glimmer of what I feel from you."
He could barely speak, overwhelmed by the perfection of their bond. Empathy. It was her empathy at its unintended but most powerful peak. Teyla nodded and lay back, her smile exultant, illuminating, devastating, "I had not been prepared for this. I feel everything…everything, Stephen. Not only my love and desire for you. Not only my joy in our union." She drew a deep, shuddering breath, looking up at him clear-eyed, "But what you are feeling as well. Your pleasure, your love, your joy. Everything that you feel for me, Stephen. In my flesh…" She drew him flush against her, "…my bones…" She ground her hips against his, sending an electric thrill from his belly to his balls, pulsing through his cock, "…my blood…" Teyla laid her mouth on his, telling him whisper-soft, though no less powerfully, "I feel your love in every cell of my body, as indescribable ecstasy...I feel your love inside my soul..."
Marveling at her revelation, Stephen felt his own soul was stripped naked, certain that she knew that as well—and that he would gladly entrust his immortal soul to her gentle, loving care. The physical rapture of their lovemaking could not rival the bliss he felt in the union of their souls.
But he was close to the end of his endurance now, and felt Teyla building toward her climax as well, reading in the staccato of her moans how close she was to peaking. How badly he wanted that for her, to give her such pleasure as she had never known. Most of his consciousness became focused on their most intimate connection, wanting to prolong the ecstasy for both of them, but also knowing he would climax soon himself. He realized that Teyla had moved her arms again, one wrapped tightly around his back, the other against his shoulder so she might anchor her fingers in his hair. Teyla keened in her patois of English and Hadeethan as she bucked her hips up into his—and somehow he understood every word, as she proclaimed her love for him, begging him to take her, take her as his, as his now and forever. She was straining beneath him, bathed in a fine sheen of perspiration, frantic as she ground against him, and dizzying him as she gave every ounce of herself over to him. "Come for me, baby," he urged her hoarsely, knowing he had already passed his usual limit; yet his ache for her satisfaction to precede his own remained, keener than any moment before, "I need to feel it, Teyla, baby…ah, god…I need you."
Her pelvis lifted off the bed, as she cried out his name, her legs tightening around his waist, and she grew rigid as he pumped his hardest; buried inside her, Stephen felt her crest, and somehow drove himself deeper, seeking to touch her very essence, and in doing so, pulled an inarticulate cry from the seat of her soul. Then she was blossoming around him, in glorious waves of pleasure surrounding him, and Teyla moaned her release from a deep place in her chest as her orgasm took her completely. The walls of her womb contracted around him exquisitely, and Stephen thought fleetingly that if he died in this moment, his life had been perfectly spent to have gained such communion with the soul destined for him-and he came with furious abandon, grunting through his release, fused with his sweet, beloved woman, his gentle healer, his soul's true mate…his forever, if fate would allow it. His Teyla.
Weakened in the best of all ways, Stephen hung his head beside hers, catching his breath, drained yet filled to the brim, deliciously weary yet joyfully exhilarated; feeling her body relax beneath his, listening to her breathing slow and even out. Teyla was shaking from their exertions, the divine after throes of her muscles milking the last of his spend unto herself. Her cheek against his was damp, and he didn't need to check to know that she was softly crying. He peppered her face with kisses, whispering his love with every breath, and she tightened her hold around him, clinging again to him as though to keep herself tethered to their little world, until at last her gentle sobs abated and her trembling ceased. Loathe to part from her for even a moment, he fell away nonetheless, touched at the little moan she gave at that inevitable separation. He laid beside her, and Teyla turned into him, nestling in his arms, spoiling his neck with tender kisses. "My little angel," he whispered into her hair, "Are you well? Tell me what you need, my beloved…"
He felt her smile before she spoke, not only against his skin, but in his mind and heart, "All is well with us, beloved. My joy in you knows no bounds. You have fulfilled me as I never dared dream in all my life."
Teyla sounded blissful and sleepy and absolutely perfect to him, as he cradled her head against him, and though she did not ask him how he fared, he was content, knowing that she already knew, could feel every moment of his happiness. They lay in lovely silence, hearts and minds in sync, for many minutes, many moments passing without need for speech-until she spoke again, the very thing he had been thinking. "Indeed, my love, you may call it so. This is the end to all the loneliness you have ever felt, and I swear upon my life, that I will fill every day and night that lay ahead for us, with assurances that you need never be lonely again."
Holding her, Stephen accepted her promise, letting it sink into his bones, even as Teyla began to drift to sleep-and as he drifted himself, thanking the universe for this gift which he still swore he could never truly deserve, but would cherish forever as no mortal man had ever cherished woman.